A Slave To Politics Part 1

By the time we finished number seven, I was certain that all of the skin had been whipped off my precious breasts. Tears streamed down as the pain slowly turned to a hot, hot burning throb. Brittany stopped toying with me. She ran her finger up my thigh to mid-level, than lifted two fingers to my eyes to show me how much of my love juice had leaked down my leg. She then reached up and released my hair from its suspension. I was a raw bundle of nerve endings.

"On your knees, slut! Now you will show your appreciation by sucking off my friend." I struggled to kneel down on the hard concrete floor while my hands were still locked behind me. The sales girl quickly removed her skirt to reveal a finally trimmed slit that was already leaking from arousal. She sat on the edge of the desk and pulled me forward with my ponytail, mashing my face into her crotch.

Fearing another punishment, I quickly got to work. I licked the wetness off her nether lips. She tasted different than Brittany, not as sweet, with more of a musky scent. As I reached her clit she started bucking her hips wildly into my mouth. She held onto my ponytail tightly, smothering me with her pussy. I flicked my tongue as quickly as I could. She came violently; moaning and thrusting like a bronco. I sucked in her clit and she came again. Her orgasms drove me wild with need. I gently chewed on her clit, using my tongue to flick the very tip. She was rolling into her third straight orgasm. She had to push my head away to calm herself down. I landed hard on my back.

I lay there on the floor, panting, with pussy juice all over my mouth and crotch. Brittany knelt down next to me, lightly rubbing my cheek and cooing, "You are a good slave. Good slave. Yes...." And as she stroked me and reassured me, I felt like an owned woman, a slave, and a slut. I felt nothing like the powerful woman I thought I was just a day ago. And I never felt more alive.

A Slave To Politics

Part 4

by SpeechMasterOne

I lay panting on the cold concrete floor, my breasts burning and red, my nipples hard and throbbing, my whole body shaking with a kind of tension I had never encountered before. My hottest, wildest dreams of submission had not come close to the intensity and sheer power of the last 12 hours or so.

This is all wrong. I am rapidly losing control of my free will. I am losing grasp of the life that I have worked so hard for. I have no idea what is in store for me, except that it will include more humiliation, and more sexual torture and more violations of my body and mind. My brain is screaming out that this is bad. But another part of me, a part that I had only explored in my lonely fantasies and dreams, was not only screaming that this was good, but it was growing stronger, and I am afraid it is taking control.

Brittany is not giving me a chance to think my way out of this. She commands me to stand. I struggle with my hands still locked behind me. The sales clerk dried herself with some tissues and smoothed down her skirt, all the while amused at the sight of my horny body struggling to stand.

Finally standing at attention, Brittany tells me, "Dry off the goo from your face and cunt. Put on the second outfit. Then bring the others to the front counter. I expect you outside in two minutes."

The sales girl unlocks the cuffs and saunters up to the front with Brittany. I grab the tissues and wipe off my face and crotch. I quickly change into the new, preposterous outfit. The top is a spandex white shirt that is so tight that I struggle to fit it around my firm breasts. The skirt is a black, spandex item that covers only the very top of my thighs. My glance at the mirror screamed of sex. My breasts looked large and round, with my nipples hard as little fingers pointing forward. You could even make out every detail of my tiny little bra. The skirt showed off my tight ass and my runner’s legs, and the heels defined my calf muscles. I turned away to keep from eliciting unwanted tears (or maybe to keep from getting too aroused yet again...I am not sure of anything now).

I gather the clothes and trot towards the front counter as quickly as the heels will allow. I made it just in time. Brittany hands the clerk my credit card. As the clerk hands me the packages, she tells me "See ya soon, fucktoy!"

I carried the packages as we walked to down the mall to our next destination. The mall is becoming packed and I felt as if all eyes were staring at me. Boys would stop talking at start following us from a distance, making lewd comments just loud enough for me to hear. I was relieved when we turned into the food court.

She picked up two salads and sat at a table that was closest to the escalators. She sat down and started to eat her salad while I stood next to her, waiting for some indication that I could sit. Everyone stared at me as I stood there for long minutes.

"You may sit now my champion cunt slut. Keep your legs open. You have a choice, now...you can eat without the use of your hands, or you can starve until the next time I allow you to eat. Believe me when I tell you that you will need your energy...I have been too easy on you so far!"

I was stunned. Too easy? I can't imagine my life getting any more difficult. And i can't believe that I have to eat like a dog from this dish, with everyone watching. Yet the fear of punishment snapped me back to my new reality.

"Yes, Miss Brittany."

I leaned forward and started chomping on the salad. As long as I kept my eyes pointed at the dish, I could almost forget where I was and what I was doing in front of all of these people. The salad was not big, so I finished in relative speed.

"May I wipe my face, Miss Brittany?"

"Not yet. Grab a napkin and follow me into the ladies room."

I quickly followed her, carrying my bags and struggling to pull the hem down to hide my charms. I was a beacon to everyone’s eyes. I wanted to scream at them to mind their own business. Or tell them to help me stop this devil girl.

She pulled me into the large handicap stall. "Watching you being such a slut today has me very horny right now. Here are your choices, my little slavee. You can wipe your face, get on your knees and eat me until I say, or walk around with the dressing all over your face for the rest of the day. And to tilt the scales, I will also require you to wear these," she said as she held up a pair of wicked looking nipple clamps.

The choice was clear. "May I lick your pussy, Miss Brittany?" Even as I asked the question, my I could again feel the waves of both revulsion and excitement rush through me.

"I thought that you would never ask," she said as she lifted her skirt and pulled down her thong panties. I wiped my face, knelt down and braced my arms on her thighs. I dove in, working her cunt with the care of someone who was scared to death to get whipped. She was definitely sweeter tasting than the sales clerk, and in a warped way I appreciated her for it. I worked as fast and furious as I could, fucking her hole with my tongue and flicking her clit in an effort to get this over with as quickly as I could.

"Slow down, slut. I know that you love my pussy, but you need to take the time to worship it. If I cum too soon, you may still have the honor of wearing the nipple clamps." So I slowed down, using my fingers to pull apart her lips as I jabbed and swirled my tongue into her pussy. For over 15 minutes, I worked her pussy, slowing at her order when she was getting too close to cumming.

All the while, people were entering the rest room. It was all too obvious to anyone who entered what was going on in our stall. Shame spread through me as I heard horrid comments from these women as they left.

When she was finally ready, I unleashed a fury of licking and sucking to make her cum. Her orgasm was thunderous, yet she was able to keep her noise down to a surprisingly low level. She was pulling on my ponytail, holding me tight to her pussy as she humped hard into my face. Then she came again. And again. My face became drenched and my jealousy raged.

Finally she came down from her high. "You are becoming quite a cunt slave. We will definitely share your skills with others. Lots of others. But i get ahead of myself. Help me up, and let's get over to the shoe store. And don't wipe your face. I like the look of 'face paint' on that beautiful face. I am sure everyone in the mall will as well. Come on, let's not doddle."

My knees ached something fierce as I struggled to get to my feet. The "face paint" comment shot another dagger into my soul. Not only did she make me lick her, (which I can't believe I will ever enjoy) but now I must display her juice on my face like some kind of badge of dishonor. I wanted to yell to everyone I passed 'I Am Straight; I Am Not A Lesbian; I Am Not A Slut!!!'

I felt so humiliated as we strolled the promenade, everyone passing by noticing the slut with wetness on her nose, mouth and chin. I happened to glance down and I noticed that some of the juice had dripped onto my top. It just kept getting worse.

I thanked God as we finally arrived at a women's shoe store.

The place is quite busy. The shoes are a bit cheap and are meant for the younger, dance club crowd. Brittany grabs several pairs of platform heels, stiletto heels, and high heel leather boots. She commands me to sit down and we wait for sales lady.

"Bring each of these in a size 8 1/2 please."

As we wait, Brittany leans over, "accidentally" brushing my sensitive nipples. She whispers, "I want you to keep your legs open as you try on the shoes. I also want you to push your chest out whenever possible. Show as much of yourself as you can without getting me in trouble. You are to keep eye contact with the sales girl at all times."

"Yes, Miss Brittany."

I was shaking. She wants me to act like a slut in heat to this perfect stranger. And was she perfect. The sales lady was in her mid twenties, blond, blue eyes, tall and thin with legs that did not quit. The thought of exposing myself this beautiful girl was not only humiliating me, but making me wet again. God, don't I have any control over my body?

As she sat down, I separated my knees, exposing my wet pussy to anyone giving me more than a passing glance. I thrust my chest out as the clerk takes out the first pair of shoes and turns towards me. You could see the shock in her face. She stopped cold for several seconds. yet I had my mission, and did not want yet another punishment. I slowly lifted my right leg in offering. She could not help but see my wet slit as she removed my shoe and slipped the platform heel on.

Repeating this with my left, I stood up. I had not realized how high these heels were. I must stand six feet one, maybe six feet two with these outrageous heels. I wobbled down to the full-length mirror. My legs looked as long as redwoods, focusing attention to all of the curves and muscles in my legs. What's worse, it made my skimpy outfit look even skimpier.

The smile on Brittany's face showed she was pleased with the enormous heels. "What do you think?" she asked the sales girl.

"Fine", the clerk mumbled.

"I am sorry, I could not hear you."

The sales girl spoke up, "They look fine. They are definitely appropriate. Does she always dress like this?"

"She is a sex slave, my personal fucktoy. She enjoys dressing like this."

My mind was screaming. 'This Is Not True. She Is Making Me Do This. HELP ME!!!'

"Wow, I never met a lesbian slave before. She is very beautiful, in a sluttish kind of way. What is that on her face?"

"She is wearing my love juice on her face. She loves licking my slit," Brittany smiled triumphantly. "Well, if you ever want to see more of her, just let me know," Brittany said as she winked at the girl. "We would like this pair and the matching pair of boots." She handed the girl my credit card.

I stood there in front of Brittany, choking back the tears of humiliation. Why can't I do anything? I feel so helpless. When the girl returned with my receipt for signature, she handed me a tissue to wipe my face. Brittany nodded, and I wiped the tears and wetness from my face. Some of the juices had begun to dry. Brittany whispered for me to write down her phone number on the receipt, just in case. I kept my eyes staring straight into the clerk's eyes, and you could see both her embarrassment and her intrigue.

Brittany pulled a chain out of her purse and hooked it to the front of my collar. She yanked it as she walked out the door. With bags filling both hands, tears rolling from my eyes, my hips swaying and my tiny little outfit barely hiding my charms, she led me like a dog down the length of the mall and through the parking lot. At her command, I put the bags in the back seat, lift my skirt above my ass cheeks, and sat down on my seat. Some of my juices from the ride in had dried on the seat.

We said nothing to each other as we drove home. The events of the day were so overwhelming that I sobbed, the recollection of each and every event so shameful. By the end of the drive, it was late afternoon and I felt more settled.

Once we settled into my house, she told me to lie on my back on the bed. She tied my wrists together and secured them to my headboard. She repeated the effort with my ankles, attaching them to the end of the bed. She then threaded it under the small of my back and around my waist. She secured each end of the rope to the bed frame to either side of me. She then grabbed the strap in my ponytail and tied a rope to it, then attached it to the headboard. I could barely move.

"I am going to allow you a couple hours of sleep...you are definitely going to need it for tonight. But don't worry, I won't let you get to lonely, my slavee pooh!" She then pulled a blindfold over my eyes and strapped it tight behind my head. She then placed earphones over my ears. I could feel her pulling another strap around my head, pulling the earphones tighter. Several seconds later, the sound of Brittany's voice filled my ears.

"You are Miss Brittany's sex slave. Miss Brittany owns your body. You will do anything she asks, without hesitation. You will give your body to her anytime she wishes. You will serve her in any way she commands. You will not speak unless spoken to. Any violation will mean painful and prolonged punishment. Miss Brittany enjoys that you hate many of the things she will do to you or require of you. Only Miss Brittany's pleasure matters. Again, only Miss Brittany's pleasure matters."

"You are Miss Brittany's sex slave. Miss Brittany owns your body. You will do anything..."

I struggle to get free, to strip these headphones off of my head. I am tied so tightly that my prolonged struggles are in vain. I try to think of something else and keep my mind strong in an effort to resist her obvious attempt to brainwash me.

"You are Miss Brittany's sex slave. Miss Brittany owns....." Finally my exhaustion catches up to me and I quickly fall to sleep, while my subconscious is repeatedly pounded by this message.

A Slave To Politics

Part 5

by SpeechMasterOne

His penis was huge. It must have been at least nine inches long and amazingly thick. As I road this faceless stud with wild abandon, his penis seemed to touch every part of my insides. We fucked like animals, grunting and sweating, the passion escalating to a fevered pitch. The sensations were beyond description. This was not lovemaking. This was pure animal need.

We could not stop. The fucking went on and on, yet neither of us could cum. We switched positions, having him fuck me doggy style, then on my back with my ankles at my ears. Still, the passion rose. Still, no orgasm. I was crying from the frustration as I humped and humped and humped.

Suddenly, I saw Brittany sitting in a chair next to the bed, smoking a cigarette with one hand (funny, I don't remember her smoking before) while the other hand was rubbing her clit.

"Please, Mistress, please help us cum. We are going to die from fucking if you don't help us. Plllleeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssseeeeee!!!" I screamed out between the pounding and the erotic tidal waves of pleasure.

"Silly, cunt, don't you understand. I want you to die fucking. It makes me so hot. Beg me some more and maybe I will allow you to cum before you die." She said as she stubbed out her cigarette.

I was transfixed with watching her rub her clit in little circles, while her free hand snaked under her blouse and started squeezing her breasts, pulling her nipples. She stared at me the whole time. I continued to fuck my brains out, slowly losing my sanity as I watched Brittany approach her gigantic O. I screamed out in total frustration just as she hit her orgasm.

"PLEASE LET ME CUM. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. CAN'T YOU SEE THAT THIS IS KILLING ME! PLEASE....." All the while she came and came and came for what seemed like hours as I fucked away in my frustration.

Suddenly I shot awake as I felt Brittany's hand stroke my hair. She smiled down at me as she comforted me and hushed my screams. "You were having quite the dream, my toy. I am not sure what it was all about, but you certainly were loud about it."

It was just a dream! It was both wonderful and horrible all at once. It was heaven and hell in the same place. I was still tied to the bed, although my head was now free and the headphones removed. My skin shimmered with a thin layer of perspiration and my heart was starting to slow from the race it was running. Brittany untied me as I lay their, recovering from the mind-crushing dream.

"Get up. Now. Change the sheets. You have soaked the bedding with you slimy fuck juice. I want you to take a shower, apply your makeup again, change into the clothes I have laid out on the chair, and meet me in the kitchen. You have 20 minutes. I have installed hidden cameras all throughout the house. I will see your every move. So don't try to bring yourself off. Now hurry up, you are eating into your time."

The clock said it was now 7:30 p.m. My God, I must have been sleeping for hours. Brittany marched out of the room as I started my struggle to get up. Groans escaped my throat as I could feel everyone one of my muscles ache, probably from being tied up for so long. The bedding was soaking wet under my drenched skirt as I sat up. I groaned again as my weight added pressure to the butt plug.

I stood up on shaking legs as I balanced on the heels. I glanced at the time. Shit, I only had eighteen minutes remaining. I rushed to the closet and grabbed new sheets. I worked quickly to strip the bedding and replace with the new sheets. I discarded my drenched skirt and my sweat soaked top and bra and set everything in the hamper. I slipped out of the heels.

7:37. Time was my worst enemy. I could feel a need to pee, but I had no time. I rushed into the shower. The hot, soothing water instantly relaxed my stressed body. As I washed, I purposefully avoided my sensitive nipples and clit. I lost my self in contemplation about Brittany. She had been so quiet and aloof when we met. I must have mistaken that for shyness. The little girl I had noticed in her was still there, but in a much different way. She did not need the mother figure I had intuitively offered. How could I be so wrong?

What she needed was a toy to play with, much like a cat playing with a mouse. And what does the cat do when the mouse no longer provides entertainment value? It kills the mouse. This thought woke me out of my daydream. I avoided getting my hair wet as I rinsed and stepped out of the shower.

7:44. I am going to be late. I can't take another punishment today. I quickly applied makeup and rushed into the bedroom to change. Lying on the bed was a collar, a boned bra that had a round hole in the center of each cup two to three inches wide, garter belt, silk stockings, and the new black stiletto heels. I had to hurry up.